* * *
Jessie’s breaths were heavy, her skin uncharacteristically warm, her trembling exacerbating his need to take her there and then.
Eden’s groin tightened at how wet she was, yet how enticingly uptight nonetheless. It didn’t help that her anxious clenching, albeit involuntary, only made entering her all the more pleasurable, making him painfully aware of her tightness compared to his girth as he eased a little deeper inside her. She was the perfect blend of willingness and tension that sent his arousal soaring. His thigh muscles strained as he struggled to hold back, as he wavered over pushing harder. Because her resistance was purely physical, seemingly one of unfamiliarity, whereas her eyes anything but. Knowing he could thrust only shoved him closer to the edge of temptation. She would struggle at first, but then she would relent as he brought her to the edge of orgasm.
And he so wanted to do that for her – to give her that pleasure, that release, that moment of freedom that no one could touch.
He tightened his grip on the belt as he clutched her hip. He slowed his pace a little more, felt her start to accept him an inch at a time, every little bit further adding to the ecstasy. Still she wasn’t relaxing enough though. Even as he was gliding in and out of her, edging deeper, she wasn’t giving in.
He was starting to suspect that it wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of him that was holding her back physically, but maybe the unfamiliarity of sex itself. He wanted to ask her. He wanted to know if he was her first – wondered if it would even be possible in that place. How Pummel, in particular, would have kept his hands off her. But he knew there was also a possibility that, as well as being able to heal others, she self-healed. Maybe every part of her. Whatever the truth was, he wasn’t willing to ruin the moment by raking through her history or reminding her of her situation. He wasn’t going to risk anything pulling her away from him.
He pushed a little more, watched her stretch her neck further over the bed, the moonlight bathing her collarbone to the upward mounds of her breasts as she arched her back into him, her hardened nipples caressed by the cool air. As he toyed with them under his tongue, took their delicacy, their pliability, between his teeth, her groans sent ripples of pleasure through him. As he’d hoped, she arched her back more, allowing him to penetrate even deeper.
Once she finally started to relax, he braced himself with his belt-holding hand again, switched from her now closed eyes to watching the gentle movement in her firm breasts as he began to pick up pace. He let her hip go to brace his arm on the bed; closed his own eyes so he could relish in the sensation for himself.
‘You don’t have to be gentle with me,’ she whispered.
He snatched his gaze back to hers.
‘I don’t want you to be,’ she added.
He didn’t want to believe it, he didn’t even want to think it, but thoughts of entrapment slipped into his head again. But just as he’d told her, he’d know if she was faking – and there wasn’t one fake thing in her responses right then.
‘For me,’ she confirmed, those eyes now enticingly glossy. ‘It’ll make it easier for me if you’re not.’
Those few words betrayed more than he wanted to face.
He might have called her cruel for her entrapment back in the lock-up, but there was nothing cruel in those eyes. She had been scared, desperate, frustrated, and clutching for her survival. Now she was scared of something else. She was scared of how she was feeling.
His mask had slipped – and he’d been so relaxed, so caught up in the moment with her, that he’d not even realised it. He’d not realised that, although his tender sexual manipulation up to that point had been about drawing her closer to get what he ultimately needed, a part of him had seeped out with it. Making love to her was too strong a term – too alien a term for as long as he could remember, if he’d ever experienced it at all, if he was even capable of it – but still this felt different. He knew it because just the thought of hurting her felt wrong, even, as she had asked, for her own emotional needs.
His uncharacteristic hesitation wasn’t simply because he wasn’t convinced she truly knew what she asking though. It was because he knew that his consent to her request could forge the barrier she was clearly hoping for, the barrier he was working hard to break.
She was nowhere near ready to see that side of him – the side of him that even he didn’t want to face right then. He should have pulled away at that point, but not only did he know his rejection could hurt her; it could subsequently divide them again – potentially beyond repair.
‘I told you,’ she whispered, snagging his attention again. ‘I’m not delicate.’ She raked her gaze slowly and invitingly down his chest, before her brown eyes met his again. ‘I liked it – the way you were by the pool table. I thought you could tell.’
And she had. That much was undeniable.
Or she simply didn’t know any different.
He tightened his grip on the belt, held her hip down further into the bed, the slight flare in her eyes, the parting of her lips, helping him reconsider.
She was a job, just a job, and over and over and over again he had to remind himself of it. He’d fucked more women than he could remember in more places than he could recall. He’d performed sexual acts without second thought. He’d thrived on the high of brief encounters as much as repeated favourites. He’d detached himself from emotional complication because that’s what he did.
And right then, her heart was a complication they could both do without. More to the point, so was his. So if she wanted to bury both somewhere dark, somewhere inaccessible, he could play along.
But he’d do it without letting her be tainted by the dark side of him.
Lowering his head, tensing his thigh muscles, he thrust in one, long, hard and unrelenting move, pushing deep to the hilt.
She cried out, forcing him to slam his hand down over her mouth to remind her to be silent.
She nodded, her eyes watering.
‘Don’t make me gag you too,’ he warned.
He removed his hand slowly, using it instead to brace himself as he continued to thrust.
He wanted to loosen the belt, to free her hands – to feel them caressing him, stroking him, grabbing him. But he wouldn’t allow himself that intimacy. He couldn’t afford to allow himself that intimacy.
As she shuddered beneath him, bit into her bottom lip to keep herself silent, he clasped her breast, massaged her trembling flesh as he thumbed her nipple more vigorously before consuming her with his mouth again.
She snatched back another breath, the flare in her eyes escalating his arousal, let alone the feel of her taut thighs trembling either side of his as he watched himself thrust deep inside her before withdrawing to enter her again and again.
Losing himself, he thrust harder – harder than he should have dared, all but ramming himself inside her. He knew there was a risk of splitting the fine sheath of protective barrier between them but he didn’t care. Just the thought of being flesh on flesh inside of her sent shivers through him. Because he never went without protection. Ever. But right then he could have withdrawn, gladly peeled it off and re-entered her slowly to feel every exquisite sensation.
The prospect tipped him to the edge. Heat consumed his veins. Every muscle tensed. He could feel her clenching too – could feel the impact his increased fervour had created.
Easing back onto his haunches, he kept her thighs spread around his as he pulled her up into his lap. Guiding her still bound wrists over his head, he brought her mouth dangerously close to his – close enough to kiss. Instead he gripped her neck, her waist, resolved he wanted that extra piece of her.
He let go of the nape of her neck to clutch her jaw. ‘Your turn to fuck me,’ he declared, staring deep into her eyes as his terse breaths infused with hers. ‘Slowly and quietly.’
* * *
He’d said it with a vehemence she couldn’t refuse, the command as enthralling as the intensity in his eyes.
She used what
strength she had left in her aching thighs to ease herself up just a few inches, the movement making her even more aware of the hard girth still inside of her. Revelling in the tension in his shoulders, the warmth of his smooth skin, the light perspiration coating him, she pushed back down a couple of inches.
His hand tightened on the nape of her neck again, his arm that had been around the small of her back now clutching her behind in order to retain a semblance of control as she eased down further. She soon found her rhythm, stroking him with the tense muscles of her inner sex, knowing her steadiness was goading him as much as allowing herself to linger in the pleasure of his hardness, the feel of him breaking inside the soft pliability of her flesh again and again.
In that moment she was free – without fear, without restriction, without responsibility. And as she eased him as deep inside her as she could manage, she felt only him, looked back at him to see his stubbled jaw was tight, his teeth clenched.
‘Take your contacts out,’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘I can’t risk losing them.’
‘What are you, Jessie?’
‘I told you – more trouble than I’m worth.’
‘Well, you’re the best trouble I’ve ever had.’
She smiled – a smile he reciprocated, creating a moment that she found dangerously reassuring.
She broke from his gaze to lower her head slightly. She closed her eyes as she picked up momentum, his grasp on her behind tightening as he grabbed her with both hands, squeezed and massaged her firm flesh, his breaths hot and heavy against her ear.
And she wanted to stay like it, locked in that perfect moment with him. She wanted to forget everything else, to feel that free forever. But she was riding the crest of an impossible fantasy – allowing herself the indulgence only to maintain any semblance of daily depleting hope.
‘All the way,’ he commanded, moving one hand from her behind to clasp the back of her neck again, squeezing as if warning her that, if she didn’t, he would.
She eased herself down further but, at the same time, without even thinking about it, placed her first kiss on his neck just behind his ear.
He stilled as if stunned by the show of tenderness.
Her heart leapt, it never having crossed her mind until then. She’d focused only on how he treated women – not on how women treated him.
He almost seemed uncertain amidst the unfamiliarity of the show of affection.
But he didn’t shove her away as she moved in for another one. Brushing her lips gently across his hot skin, she lingered over his pulse, his stubble rough against her lips as she traced her kisses down his neck, licking away his perspiration.
He coiled his fingers in the hair at her nape, tugging her head back slightly so she was forced to look in his eyes. ‘You wanted distance,’ he reminded her.
But she had to ask. She had to know. ‘Who are you? What are you? Because you don’t belong here.’
‘Because?’
‘Because of how this feels.’
‘And how does it feel, Jessie?
The word slipped from her lips too easily. ‘Good.’
He gripped her behind tighter, resuming control. ‘Bad can feel good, Jessie. Bad can feel as good as it can get.’
And he thrust, filling her completely again.
She clenched her hands in their restraint, her knuckles pale as she lowered her head to his shoulder, surrendering to the shivers sweeping through her body. Just when she thought it had got too much, he only thrust deeper. Panting, she buried her mouth in his neck as she eased into the excruciating bliss.
Hand still clutching the nape of her neck, his next thrust ignited sparks behind her eyes. As heat swept through her body, she clamped her jaw down over the soft leather of the belt to silence her cries.
And she froze.
So did he.
She hadn’t noticed he’d unfastened her zip. Didn’t have any idea until she felt his warm hand slip up her bare back.
She snatched back a breath, stared ahead at the wall. Tears instantly welled in her eyes as, amidst more pleasure than she could ever recollect, came the hardest stab of emotional pain.
She instantly tried to clamber away at the same time as he withdrew himself, but Eden held her tight to him, his eyes locking on hers.
She’d expected the confusion from him, but it was the concern that startled her.
Without further hesitation, he flipped her over onto her front, her retaliation restricted by her still bound hands. He yanked her dress as far down over her shoulders and back as the fabric would allow in order for him to assess what he had felt.
Her stomach curdled, heat flushing every sinew of her body. She squeezed her eyes shut against her tears.
Knowing it was too late, she slumped.
18
Eden overpowered her struggles without remorse because the fear in her eyes wasn’t of him; it was of what he had found.
He yanked down the back of her dress to see first-hand why his discovery had evoked so much horror in her eyes.
He brushed her hair aside and stared down at her now bare back.
It was unlike anything he’d ever seen. The splintering of raised bumps that spanned her back resembled the sparks of an electrical storm, branching out into thinner veins before eventually disappearing. Whatever had been used on her, it would have been excruciatingly painful, betrayed by the irreparable scars that it had left behind on her otherwise delicate, smooth skin – scars that surely should have healed.
Tension consumed his body as she stilled beneath him, as if defeated at yet another in a long line of discoveries.
‘What is this?’ he asked.
Met with her silence, he leaned over her.
She looked anywhere but at him, her distant gaze glossy with tears; tears that made both his stomach and heart wrench – a reaction that was another giant step over the mark.
‘Pummel?’ he asked, fury scorching his chest.
‘No,’ she said firmly.
‘Then who?’
‘Let me go.’
‘No. Not until you talk to me.’
‘It’s nothing to do with you.’
‘Who did this to you?’
‘No one,’ she snapped. ‘No one did it to me.’
He looked back at the scar tissue. He could see the flush of embarrassment coating her skin, the heat of shame as if he’d discovered something monstrously ugly.
There was no way he could let her think like that.
Lips parted, he stared at the stunning female beneath him – realised then just how much of a personal risk she had taken getting that close to him. As a consequence, she now lay there exposed and subsequently consumed with humiliation.
His heart pounded, the weight of the importance of what he said next pressing down on him. But the words that fell out were nowhere near contrived. It had been his first thought. ‘Do you think this makes you any less beautiful, Jessie?’
‘I don’t care what you think of me.’ Her jaw clenched, her frown deepened. Her defensiveness was back. He was losing her again.
Only now this definitely wasn’t about the job. This was about how he felt about her.
‘Doesn’t look like it,’ he said.
‘This was a mistake. Get off me.’
To salvage what he could of her self-perceived loss of dignity, he pulled her dress back up over her shoulders before reluctantly easing off her.
Jessie all but leapt off the bed, before turning to face him. ‘I told you not to unzip me.’
‘I’m sorry.’
She fought to free her wrists from the boundary of his belt, shaking her hands in fury, in frustration. ‘Get this the fuck off me,’ she hissed, her glossy eyes meeting his again.
Her desperation was palpable, painful. But with that much anger exuding from her, he wasn’t sure he could risk complying.
‘Sit back down,’ he said.
She glared at him, spun on her heels towards the door.
&nbs
p; He got there quicker, snatching the key from the lock.
She turned to face him again, her eyes lethal in their distress. ‘I will raise my voice.’
‘And have everyone come running? Watch me being beaten to death on this floor?’
‘Your choice. I’m the one with the get-out clause,’ she said, holding up her wrists. ‘The state of that bed and this restraint gives you fuck all to the contrary if anyone walks in here.’
‘Those scars – are they a part of what you are too?’
‘Eden, don’t make me do this.’
‘Jess– ’
‘Don’t call me that! Don’t act like we have some kind of understanding here!’
‘But we do. And I am not letting you walk away like this. Not after that.’
‘After what? We both know what that was. The same as what you had with Tatum last night, what you probably had when you were out today; will probably have with another two or three tonight unless Tatum finds you first. Don’t make it out to be more than it was because it sure as hell wasn’t anything to me.’
If her lie, her futile attempt at self-defence, hadn’t been so transparent, he would have felt insulted. But he knew exactly what had gone on between them – and so did she.
He folded his arms at the sharp contradiction between her words and the look in her eyes. He nearly took a step towards her when he heard footsteps.
A knock on the door.
Jessie’s attention snapped to the door the same time as his did.
The masculine knock was followed by a masculine voice – fortunately with a light-hearted tone. ‘Hey, Eden, I know you’re in there. I heard voices.’
Chemist.
She stared wide-eyed at him as she plastered her back to the wall.
‘Hey,’ Chemist said again, banging the door. ‘Don’t be shy, open up; let’s take a look. I know you’ve got a woman in there.’ He turned the handle from the other side. ‘I heard her.’
With her eyes watchful and wary on his, Eden raised his eyebrows. ‘Go on then,’ he whispered. ‘Now’s your chance. Scream. I dare you.’
Blood Deep (Blackthorn Book 4) Page 20